


Puppy Love

by LydiaStJames



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: AU Animal Shelter, M/M, Pynch Secret Santa 2016, there's kitties!, there's puppies!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 18:49:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9002281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydiaStJames/pseuds/LydiaStJames
Summary: AU. When Adam decided to volunteer at the local animal shelter, he figured it would be a breeze. He did not, however, anticipate getting on the bad side of the temperamental owner, nor his favorite shelter dog.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunshineinthestorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshineinthestorm/gifts).



> This is a gift to my dearest [Anya](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshineinthestorm/pseuds/sunshineinthestorm) for Pynch Secret Santa. I'm so glad you liked this!
> 
> Also based on the Tumblr prompt [here](http://lorelaiglmore.tumblr.com/post/150175336085/adamsrcnan-adamparrush-list-of-possibly), who [Saachi](http://lorelaiglmore.tumblr.com) so lovingly let me steal for this event. Thank you as well! 
> 
> Last: apologies for any inaccuracies on how animal shelter's work. I have no idea how they work.

He felt like an asshole admitting it, but Adam really,  _ really  _ didn’t want to work at the animal shelter. It wasn’t the animals - he didn’t particularly think of himself as a pet-lover, but he understood the appeal of a furry companion. (And, hell, maybe one day when he had an established job and a comfortable, stable income, he’d think about getting a pet. Something small. Easy.) 

 

Contrary to what Cheng said, it also didn’t matter that he wouldn’t be paid. Okay, true, at first he wasn’t exactly thrilled to find out that jobs would  _ continue _ to expect he volunteer his free time to various organizations, but he’d found he kind of liked community service when his schedule wasn’t jam-packed with work, studying, working more, studying more, avoiding his father’s alcoholic outbursts, and yet more work.

 

The  _ problem _ with working at the shelter was the owner. 

 

When he researched the shelter, Ronan Lynch came across like a saint. Their website listed that he opened the shelter at the age of eighteen and funded it completely out of his own pocket. (At the time, Adam thought that was insanely admirable. Eventually, though, Adam would learn that Ronan had inherited a large fortune from his father. Adam couldn’t explain why this bothered him so much, why he felt so disappointed in a person he barely knew.) Within months of opening the shelter, Ronan had saved over thirty dogs from various kill-shelters across West Virginia. Even more impressive, said dogs were turned around to new homes within a few short weeks.

 

This pattern continued, and within three years, the shelter had expanded to accepting dogs, cats, various amphibians, and strangely enough, barn animals. (Adam found it hard to believe that no farmer would want said animals, but when he asked about this, Ronan nearly bit his head off. He could barely understand him between the grumbling and the cursing, but picked out,  _ “small cages,” “machines,” “torture,”  _ and - this one he must have misunderstood -  _ “fucking chickens eating each other and shit.”) _

 

So when Henry suggested he volunteer there, Adam was intrigued. It was the summer after graduating and Gansey had somehow convinced Adam to stay with him and Cheng in Henrietta, West Virginia until he got a job in D.C., so the shelter was only a short drive away. His first week in town, Adam stopped by the shelter. The receptionist, a small bundle of shockingly blonde locks and large teeth, wooed him quickly with his enthusiasm for the shelter and praise of Ronan’s work. (He also wooed Cheng, who decided to tag along, with his apparently “cute tiny butt” and other attributes that Adam really did not feel comfortable repeating. Such was being the friend of Henry Cheng.) 

 

His first day started well. The receptionist - Noah - showed him around the shelter and explained how everything worked. He thought he’d have to pick up dog shit all day, but Noah just asked Adam to spend the next few hours walking the dogs. He was on his fourth dog walk when everything started to go downhill. 

 

At this point, Adam had yet to even  _ see _ the elusive Ronan Lynch. There was a picture of him on the website - a snap that must have been taken without warning, because Ronan was scowling at something offscreen - so he had a general idea of what he looked like. (Blue eyes, hair buzzed short, wide shoulders, five o’clock shadow.) He kept a casual eye out for him, part because he really wanted to meet the generous owner, and part because, okay, fine, he was also marginally attractive. (And by marginally, Adam meant definitely.)

 

Adam was leaning down to leash the fifth dog when all hell broke loose. This dog - medium-sized, all black, and missing one eye - was tucked into the corner of the room. Adam assumed he was just sleepy, or maybe shy, and figured a nice walk would perk him up. So when Adam reached down to attach the leash, he did  _ not _ expect the dog to start yelping loudly and incessantly. The sound upset the rest of the dogs in the controlled play pen, who all began to bark at Adam, seemingly to protect their friend. Adam tried to comfort the dog, reaching down once more to pet his ears, when the dog snapped at him.

 

Adam crashed backward, smacking into a shelf full of dog supplies. They clattered to the ground, which only added to the cacophony, and Adam winced.

 

_ “What the fuck did you do?” _

 

Adam jumped at the harsh voice. Behind him, of-fucking-course, was Ronan Lynch. His eyes were narrowed at Adam before they slipped to the fallen dog supplies, then back to the cowering dog in the corner. 

 

“I, uh,” Adam began, bending down to retrieve the fallen goods. “Sorry, I just--”

 

“Jesus Christ,” Ronan muttered, pushing Adam out of the way. In three long steps he was in front of the cowering dog. Ronan bent down and held out his palm to the dog, fingers still, and said in a gentle voice, “Did he scare you, buddy?”

 

The dog did not appreciate Ronan’s gesture either. His ears fell back against his head and his back tensed, and if Adam had hearing in both ears, he was sure he’d hear a growl. At this response, Ronan cursed again and turned back to Adam, furious.

 

“I’ve been working on him for two Goddamn months and now he’s back to square one. What were you thinking?”

 

Adam was having trouble forming words. How was he supposed to defend himself when he didn’t know what the hell just happened? 

 

Ronan didn’t seem to care either way. He jerked his head to the door and said, “Out, now.”

 

Adam scrambled to put a few of the dog toys back on the shelf before he followed Ronan out of the pen. As he watched his retreating back head toward the main office, it struck Adam that Ronan’s body resembled the tense stance of the dog just moments ago. Shoulders square, back tight, hands clenched into fists at his sides. Everything about Ronan warned Adam not to come close, but there was nowhere to run.

 

“Czerny!” Ronan barked once they were near the front. “Want to tell me why you let a random customer back here without supervision?”

 

Noah peered around the door in alarm before his eyes landed on Adam. “Oh! That’s not a customer. That’s Adam, our new volunteer. Remember? I told you about him?”

 

Ronan turned back to Adam with a sneer. “You’re fucking with me.”

 

With Noah in the vicinity, Adam was starting to get his spine back. He bit the inside of his cheek and muttered, “Afraid not.”

 

Noah exhaled. “Ronan, I sense that you’re upset--” 

 

“A regular genius, you are!”

 

“--but I cannot have you pull a classic Lynch in front of our volunteers,” Noah continued, hardly missing a beat. “Do I need to send you to The Happy Room, or can you calmly tell me the issue?”

 

“He fucking triggered Porkchop!” Ronan said, jabbing his finger in Adam’s direction. “And now he won’t let me fucking near him!”

 

“Porkchop? Oh,  _ God. _ Shit, Adam, I’m so sorry.” Noah pressed his palm into his forehead. “Ronan, this is my bad. I totally forgot you were trying Porkchop out in the controlled play pen. I didn’t even warn Adam that Porkchop used to be abused. It’s not his fault.”

 

Adam was torn. Noah did look sufficiently guilty, and being that he appeared to be the only one running the front-end of the shelter, it wasn’t surprising that he’d forget a few details now and then. Still, if this dog - Porkchop, apparently - was such a big deal to Ronan, that seemed like a  _ pretty big detail _ to forget.

 

“It’s fine,” Adam muttered. “I should have been more careful. I didn’t realize the dogs could have been…” 

 

Somehow, Adam couldn’t find it within him to say the word.  _ Abused. _ He hated that word for many reasons. Hated it for the memories it held, for the inevitable flash of fists to his chin, of Blue running her finger down his face, eyes full of pity. 

 

Ronan snorted. “I told you getting a fucking Yale kid was a bad idea. You didn’t think dogs get abused? Jesus, you don’t know shit about the real world.”

 

Adam felt like he was burning up. Anger was on the tip of his tongue, waiting to lash out.  _ He didn’t know shit about the real world? _ He didn’t know shit about being  _ abused? _ Of course he knew that it happened. He wasn’t an idiot, he just needed a little  _ warning.  _

 

“I need to go put them back in their kennels, they’re all riled up now,” Ronan muttered.

 

Ronan stalked back in the direction they came before Adam’s anger could be unleashed. Noah - perhaps sensing Adam’s fury - got to work in distracting him. He reached his arm around Adam’s shoulder and started pulling him in the opposite direction, talking his ear off.

 

“Again, so sorry about that, Adam. Ronan is -- well, he’s very protective of the animals, here. Especially the abused ones. And that dog in particular is… Anyway, I’m so sorry.” He pulled Adam through another door and soon they were in a hall he’d never been. “I promise you he’s not like that all the time, though, and the days that he is, well, we’ve been working on techniques for his little temper tantrums.”

 

“Where are we going?” Adam asked.

 

“The Happy Room,” Noah said, as if that explained everything. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Adam, but I think you need a dose of The Happy Room, else you may never come back.”

 

“I’m fine,” Adam grit. “Look, Noah, I really appreciate this, but maybe this is just a sign--”

 

Noah waved his hand around wildly and didn’t let him finish. He pointed to a door a few feet away and said, “I’m going to stop you right there, Adam. Look, this wasn’t a first great day. I acknowledge this. But you gotta’ give us a chance! We run a really great shelter, and Ronan actually  _ is _ a good guy, and if you just go in The Happy Room for fifteen minutes, I can  _ guarantee _ you that you will feel better.”

 

Adam looked at the door warily. “Noah, I just--”

 

“Please?” Noah placed a bag in his hand and curled Adam’s fingers around it.

 

Eventually, Adam went into The Happy Room. He didn’t know what to expect, thus when he pushed open the door and saw the result, a breath of a laugh escaped his lips. Scattered around the room were about five kittens who trotted over to the door, meowing wildly in high-pitched squeals. In the corner, laying on a soft bed, was what looked to be the mother cat. She blinked at Adam, uninterested, and went back to cleaning a sixth kitten.

 

The kittens, on the other hand, were  _ extremely _ interested in Adam. They climbed at his leg, little claws attaching to his jeans, and it took him a minute to figure out they were aiming for the bag of treats Noah had given him. Adam took a seat on the ground and fiddled with the bag, letting the kittens each have a piece. They jumped over and under his legs, nipping at one another.

 

The Happy Room. 

 

  
Adam understood now.

 

Noah was a sneaky little bastard. When Adam left the room, almost an hour later, the boy was back at his front computer clicking away. As Adam grabbed his bag, Noah turned to him with an innocent smile.

 

“Will we see you soon?”

 

Adam sighed. “Yeah.”

 

“Feel free to bring your friends!”

 

* * *

 

 

Still, even The Happy Room couldn’t change Adam’s opinion of Ronan. Though no day was  _ quite _ as bad as his first day, Ronan continued to be a pill each time he saw Adam. Despite having fun at the shelter the majority of the time, he couldn’t help but focus on the bad moments. Take, for example:

 

On the third day he only saw Ronan once. It was the first time they had crossed paths since the incident, and low and behold, it had to happen around Porkchop. Adam hadn’t gotten the courage to go near the dog again - it wasn’t that he was  _ afraid _ of him, but just hated the idea of upsetting the dog once more - but still had to walk the dogs who were currently with Porkchop. When Adam returned after the third walk, Ronan was sitting in the pen a few feet from Porkchop, his arm outstretched and rested palm up, offering a few dog treats. Porkchop was not interested.

 

When Ronan saw him, he narrowed his eyes and said, “Don’t give him a walk, okay? He isn’t ready for that.”

 

“I know that,” Adam muttered, annoyed at the patronizing tone Ronan took on. He walked his way over to a different dog, a golden lab who nearly lost his shit when he realized it was his turn, and focused on the dog instead. “I’m just going to take this one out and then I’ll go do something else.”

 

Ronan nodded. “Good. Porkchop got pissed at you as soon as you walked in.”

 

Adam’s hands tensed around the dog leash. Jesus. He didn’t know which felt worse - the obvious rejection from Ronan or the dog. He made one mistake - one  _ completely reasonable mistake _ , especially considering no one  _ told _ him about Porkchop’s troubles - and he would never get forgiven.

 

The second week of working at the shelter Adam ran into Ronan again. It was not a great meeting. Adam was all set to walk the dogs when Ronan intercepted his path, holding a pair of yellow rubber gloves and a big trash bag.

 

“Ready to do something useful, now?” Ronan asked.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Ronan dropped the gloves into Adam’s hands and nodded out to the back field, where they sent the dogs to run around. “I’m sure your precious, Ivy-league hands have never touched shit before, but if you really want to volunteer here, you’re going to have to do more than walk the dogs.”

 

The tips of Adam’s ears burned. “Walking the dogs is the only thing I’ve been  _ told _ to do. I was happy to do more--”

 

Ronan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Just clean up the shit, Parrish.”

 

(Adam had to visit The Happy Room again that day.)

 

After two weeks of this behavior, Adam was coming really close to quitting. That first day, Noah had acted like Ronan’s bad mood was an anomaly, but he was quickly realizing it was par for the course. By this point, Adam had also learned more of Ronan’s backstory; his patience for Ronan quickly crumbled once he realized his father had been one of the richest men in West Virginia, and that all of Ronan’s success could be traced back to his privilege. 

 

It made it incredibly, incredibly hard to deal with Ronan’s constant insults about Adam’s college when he knew Ronan grew up with a silver spoon in his pocket.

 

Halfway through the second week, Adam lost his temper finally. He was restocking the pen, dutifully ignoring Ronan as he worked with Porkchop, when Ronan made another offhand comment about Yale. 

 

“You know what?” Adam said, dropping the bag of dog food on the ground. He regretted it immediately, when a few of the dogs jumped back at the loud noise. He tried to lower his voice, tried to make his words the weapon, not his tone. “You have a lot of balls to act like you didn’t grow up ridiculously wealthy. As if you have any ground to judge me. Which - by the way - you don’t have that right, regardless. I go to Yale on a full scholarship. Grew up in a fucking trailer park, not that it’s any of your business.”

 

For once, Ronan was without a comeback. When he said nothing, Adam turned back to his work and tried to let his anger fade away by focusing on the task at hand. After a few minutes of silence he heard Ronan stand up and waited for the incoming blow. Instead, Ronan simply walked out of the room, leaving him alone. 

 

Once alone, Adam leaned his head against the wall and cursed. This was bad. It wasn’t that he regretted snapping at Ronan - because lord, he deserved it - but why did he have to resort to admitting about his past? Adam didn’t have any contact with his parents anymore, had distanced himself far from the trailer park. He could almost pretend it didn’t exist, that he never grew up there. 

 

When cursing himself out didn’t work, Adam slid against the wall until he was seated on the ground, legs outstretched. He wished this were The Happy Room, but that was starting to lose its appeal. (Not that the kittens weren’t cute, but he felt slightly used each time he visited. They wanted him for the treats, for the arm to attack.)

 

A soft nudge at his leg pulled him from his thoughts. He looked down to see a tennis ball resting against him. Most of the dogs were busy playing with each other or chewing bones, and seeing that Porkchop was the only one looking at him, Adam rolled the ball back, thinking it a mistake. Porkchop’s eyes followed the ball as it bounced back to him, but as soon as it came close, he nudged the ball back in the direction it came with his nose.

 

Adam barely breathed. “Are we playing?”

 

He sent the ball back to Porkchop. Porkchop whined and returned it. This time, Adam held onto the ball, waiting to see if Porkchop would grow restless if he kept it. The dog seemed to hardly care. After Adam had the ball for at least a minute, Porkchop curled into a ball and resting his head on his paw.

 

Adam stared at the tennis ball in his hand. It had a layer of saliva on it that attracted streaks of dust. “Did you give this to me?”

 

Porkchop chomped at his mouth, tongue slipping out for a moment. Adam wasn’t sure if that was a  _ Yes _ , a  _ No, _ or an  _ I’m a dog, why are you reading into my every action like I’m capable of human conversation? _

 

Still, Adam felt like treasuring the tennis ball, at least for a moment. He bounced it on the ground, rolled it along his palms, until he felt the last of his lingering anger dissipate. Then, Adam got back to work restocking. Porkchop ignored him, but it still felt like a win.

 

* * *

 

 

The rest of the month passed easily. Henry had started tagging along to the shelter most days, which Adam found vaguely helpful. When Ronan was around it lessened his vitriol, at the very least because Ronan could focus on nothing but insulting Henry’s hair.  _ (“Genuine question here: do you think it looks  _ good _ , or are you doing it ironically?”)  _ Unfortunately, Henry spent half his time at the front desk with Noah, peppering him with questions. _ (“What’s your sign? Oh, Gemini? I know nothing about astrology, actually, so I have no idea what that means. Do you like movies?”)  _ This meant Noah was kept busy, effectively ruining his ability as a buffer. 

 

Adam was starting to get used to Ronan, though just barely. Ever since Adam yelled at him, the insults about Yale had ceased, though Ronan still found ways to insult him. Adam found them easier to deal with, now, whether it was because Ronan teased him about perfectly meaningless things  _ (“Parrish, is that actual facial hair I see, or is it just dust? Oh, it’s dust. I thought so.”) _ , or because it was getting harder and harder to view Ronan as a dick when he saw him with the animals.

 

It was unfair, truly. How was he supposed to stay angry at Lynch when he was so good to the animals?

 

Once, he walked into the shelter to find Ronan with a tiny chihuahua in his arms, wrapped in a blanket. The dog was shaking, either terrified or cold or maybe both. When Adam saw the scene, Ronan just shrugged and said, “Had to get shots today. He’s still upset.”

 

On another day, Ronan asked Adam to help him train a few new volunteers. Ronan was  _ much _ nicer to them - perhaps because they were younger teens, or maybe because Noah had warned Ronan he’d castrate him if he said anything to upset them - and Adam found the entire situation very unnerving. One of the teens, a lanky blonde with a permanent frown, seemed enchanted by the random goat they housed.

 

After Ronan felt she was sufficiently trained, he stepped back to watch the young girl brush the goat. He perched himself on the edge of the gate next to Adam.

 

“Look at that,” Adam couldn’t help but say, elbowing Ronan in the side. “You  _ can _ be civil.”

 

“I’m always a fucking angel, Parrish, what are you talking about?”

 

Adam snorted. “The devil was an angel once, if I recall.”

 

“Only if you read that propaganda,” Ronan said. He turned to Adam and whispered in a low voice, “I’ve never been been interested in  _ The Life of Adam and Eve _ . Though, certain parts, don’t sound so bad.”

 

Adam sighed. “Okay, I have no idea what you’re saying right now. The extent of my religious knowledge is what I learned from a lonely night spent in a Wikipedia spiral.”

  
“Pity.”

 

On a Wednesday in the second month of volunteering, Adam took a break in The Happy Room and found Ronan already there. He knew the room had been designed by Noah to quell Ronan’s anger, but he’d never actually  _ seen _ him there. Ronan was sprawled against the ground with the mama cat on his chest. She was pushing her face against his chin, clearly enjoying the way his 5 o'clock shadow felt against her fur. They both turned to look in surprise at Adam when he entered, and he instinctively apologized for interrupting.

 

“You’re fine, Parrish,” Ronan muttered, turning back to the Mama. He scratched her behind the ears. “You can entertain the kids. She needs a break.”

 

“I can come back later--”

 

_ “Parrish.” _

 

“Okay, right.” Adam walked to the other side of the room and took a seat. The kittens - who were already twice the size since he first got here - bounced over to him and began to whine. “How much longer before they can be adopted?”

 

“A couple weeks,” Ronan muttered. He was frowning now. “People love kittens, so they should get adopted quickly.”

 

“That’s a good thing, right?”

 

“Maybe.” Ronan closed his eyes. “Unless the motherfuckers bring them back.”

 

“Does that happen a lot?”

 

Ronan laughed, bitter and harsh. “Like you wouldn’t fucking believe. Someone just returned one of the dogs today. Said they couldn’t handle it anymore, because it was too needy. I don’t fucking understand it. Don’t adopt a dog if you don’t have the time to play with it, you know?”

 

At once, Adam understood why Ronan was in The Happy Room. He let one of the kittens nibble at his finger. “I’m sorry. That sucks.”

 

Ronan shrugged. His eyes opened to slits as he watched the Mama cat. She was licking at his chin, purring softly, and he wrapped his arms around her. “It is what it is, Parrish.”

 

Adam thought it was criminally unfair for Ronan to look like he did - dark lashes and bright blue irises, full lips turned into a frown - while he cuddled an adorable cat. Like this, Adam found it hard to look away. To remember that Ronan was the one who cursed him out and bit at him until Adam bled spit and fire, a reaction he thought he’d rid himself of years ago. 

 

Ronan caught him staring. “Something on my face, Parrish?”

 

“No,” Adam said quickly. Too quickly. Obviously quickly, shit. “I better get back to the dogs.”

 

Ronan hummed. “Sure thing, Parrish. You going to work with Porkchop today?”

 

“I don’t -- I’m not doing anything to him, I’m just trying to make him feel comfortable with me,” Adam said quickly, feeling his walls come up. “He’s been showing interest in me lately, and I thought it would be good to see where it leads. I’m not going to fuck it up, okay?”

 

And it was true. Porkchop didn’t exactly  _ love _ Adam, but ever since the incident with the ball, it almost felt like the dog had warmed up to him. They still kept their distance - Adam had to keep a space of about four feet before Porkchop would panic - but he didn’t growl at him anymore. The past week, Adam had been slowly taking Porkchop on mini “walks,” simply by letting Porkchop follow him around as he trailed small treats around the yard.    
  


“Jesus, Parrish, calm your tits. I asked if you going to  _ work _ with him, as in, exactly what you’re doing,” Ronan said. The corner of his lip was turned upward. “I didn’t accuse you of manhandling him.”

 

“Oh.” Adam swallowed. “Then yes, I guess I am working with him today.”

 

Ronan pressed his lips to the top of the Mama cat’s head quickly, then deposited her on the ground so he could stand up. It was so fast that Adam barely registered the action, yet his heart squeezed painfully in his chest. Then, Ronan jerked his head to the door and motioned for Adam to follow.

 

“Porkchop really likes peanut butter,” Ronan said, taking him back to the storage room. There were cans and cans of peanut butter in the corner, and he tossed one to him. “That’s how I got him to let me pet him the first time. Don’t overthink bribery. Dogs are not above it.”

 

Adam turned the jar in his hand. “Okay. Good to know.”

 

Ronan clapped him on the shoulder, his large palm leaving a trail of warmth as he let it slide down Adam’s arm. The action was unsettling to Adam. It felt too comfortable, too casual, and he wasn’t sure he liked the way his skin burned.

 

It didn’t work at first, but peanut butter proved to be effective eventually. It was in his second month of volunteering. Adam was spending more and more time at the shelter, now, especially with Porkchop. Ronan had given him the advice to ignore Porkchop, to let _ him _ come to Adam when he was ready, so Adam would take a book into his kennel and sit against the wall reading. Next to him he kept a spoonful of peanut butter, just in case Porkchop was willing to close the distance.

 

He was halfway through his book when he heard Porkchop stand up. Adam kept his eyes on the book, pretending to still read, though he had no interest in the story anymore. Porkchop walked to him, slowly and carefully, before he reached his paw out to nudge the spoon. Soon, Porkchop had maneuvered the spoon within his reach and he took it in his mouth, retreating back to his spot against the wall.

 

Adam still stared at his book. This was fine. He didn’t expect Porkchop to instantly trust him just because he offered peanut butter. It would take time.

 

It actually took four times to see any sort of success. On said fourth try, Adam scooped the peanut butter and set it to his side and took up his book. Porkchop wasted no time. He trotted over and began to lick at the peanut butter, without bringing it back to his wall. A couple days later, Adam - feeling bold - dug two fingers into the peanut butter and stretched out his hand to Porkchop. Porkchop, grunting, eventually made his way over to Adam and sniffed at the peanut butter with suspicion. 

 

He was still trying to ignore Porkchop, but he couldn’t help it; as soon as he felt the tongue on his fingers, Adam’s face broke into a wide grin.

 

Porkchop had been licking at his fingers for a full minute, trying to find hidden peanut butter within the lines of his skin, when a voice said, “Bold choice.”

 

Outside the kennel stood Ronan, peering in. Porkchop looked up at the sound, relaxing once he realized who it was. Still, it appeared to be just a bit too much for Porkchop, because he ran back to his corner of the kennel and circled into a ball.

 

“Peanut butter is a godsend, you were right,” Adam commented, pushing himself up from the floor. Outside the kennel was a never-ending supply of wet wipes, and Adam stole one to clean himself off.

 

“Peanut butter can only do so much,” Ronan commented. “I think he likes you.”

 

Adam didn’t like the way Ronan was looking at him. It was too unusual, too  _ much _ . His eyes were relaxed, lips settled strangely into an almost smile. Adam couldn’t take it, he had to look down. “Yeah, right.”

 

Ronan snorted. “Trust me, Parrish. This dog went through hell and back before he came here. Humans don’t deserve his forgiveness, so if he’s this nice to you, it means you’re something special.”

 

Adam could feel his ears burning. “It’s nothing.”

 

Adam still refused to meet Ronan’s gaze. It was a strange, strange thing to be given Ronan’s approval. Ronan’s tone - softer and deeper than usual - was an unholy thing, and Adam wondered if he really was the devil. What else to explain the sudden power Ronan had over him? He went from hating his guts to being unable to function so easily. 

 

“I should, uh,” Adam paused, searching frantically for an excuse to leave. It was not working, at all, and Ronan clearly knew it. There was a delightful grin forming slowly onto his face. “I should see if Noah needs any help up front.”

 

“I think he’s fine,” Ronan said. “Your friend is up there with him.”

 

“Henry?” Adam was relieved all at once. This was no longer was an excuse. It was a particularly rainy day, so instead of biking in like usual, Henry had dropped him off. Normally, Adam would have dealt with the rain, but he had the sense that it was  _ he _ who was doing the favor for Henry.

 

Low and behold, Henry was leaning on the front counter, saying something to Noah that made the boy light up in a horrified laugh. Thankfully Ronan had stayed behind, and once Adam was in the vicinity of Henry and Noah, he exhaled roughly. It was a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, and his lungs were burning.

 

“I’m ready to go,” Adam said.

 

Henry turned to Adam with a pained smile. Slowly, without even an inch of subtly, he said, “Are you  _ sure _ Adam? I thought you needed to be here until four.”

 

“I’m  _ fine,  _ actually. We can head out now.”

 

Henry sent him a dirty look. Adam almost,  _ almost _ regretted it - he was sure he’d get a mouthful in the car - but the threat of Ronan popping back in with his stupid smile and his stupidly beautiful eyes was worth risking the rant. Noah, no fool, was watching the whole exchange with his lips sucked into his mouth.

 

“You know, Henry,” Noah said slowly, reaching for a flyer. He scribbled something on it. “We really  _ could _ use more volunteers. I’m sure you only hear the bad stories from Adam, because Ronan is nothing but a seven-year-old boy, so you’d benefit from a better conversation with me. Feel free to ask me any questions!”

 

Henry’s mood changed instantly. He plucked the flyer from his hand and folded it neatly into his pocket. “You know, I  _ do _ have some questions I’ve been meaning to ask. Wish I could ask them now, but apparently Adam simply cannot wait.”

 

“Dear lord,” Adam muttered.

 

Still, it saved him a rant in the car. Instead, Henry blabbered about Noah’s better qualities the entire ride, leaving Adam plenty of time to rest his head against the car window and curse himself for thinking of Ronan and his dumb fucking smile. He tried to remind himself that Ronan was an asshole. 

 

He was failing miserably.

 

* * *

 

 

Ignoring Ronan and his painfully good looks got a little easier in the next few weeks, if only because they got into another huge fight. Unsurprisingly, it concerned Porkchop again. When Adam got to the shelter there was a middle-aged woman talking to Noah, asking him all sorts of questions. Ronan was sitting on the desk behind them, watching carefully.

 

Adam walked behind the desk and whispered, “Are they going to adopt?”

 

Ronan used his thumb to wipe a grimace off his face. “Maybe. She has her heart set on one of the dogs, but I don’t know.”

  
At this point, Adam trusted Ronan’s judgement enough to know that, if he didn’t feel comfortable giving a dog to someone, he had a good reason. Still, he didn’t want to interfere in  _ that _ potential argument, so he dismissed himself to go work with the dogs. 

 

Adam always saved Porkchop for last, knowing he deserved more of his attention. He took a few of the dogs on walks and threw a tennis ball around for a few others before he made his way to Porkchop. By now, Porkchop and he had established a relationship, careful as it was. Adam was ten feet from his kennel when he heard voices.

 

“I’ve brought up three abused dogs before, I have experience with this sort of thing,” a woman’s voice said. “I know his history, and I think I could provide a good home for him. I don’t understand why you’re refusing to let me adopt him.”

 

“Just because you have experience--” This was Ronan.

 

“Do you need more references? I can provide more.”

 

“It’s not that. Your references were fine.” Adam could tell that Ronan was starting to grow weary. When he became annoyed his voice lowered even deeper, as if his enemies would be naturally scared off. (It definitely didn’t work on Adam. If anything, he always took an instinctive step  _ toward _ Ronan when he did that. Though Adam was a bit biased.)

 

“Then why can’t I adopt Porkchop?”

 

Adam freezed. She wanted  _ Porkchop? _ His stomach lurched at the thought of losing the dog, though he couldn’t explain why. It wasn’t like it was  _ his _ dog, like he had put a claim on him. Hell, Adam didn’t even want a dog. 

 

Still, the idea of coming to the shelter and not working with Porkchop made his heart hurt. He’d grown attached to the dog. It wasn’t that he pitied Porkchop, because Adam hated being pitied himself and he wasn’t going to do that to any living creature. It’s just -- well, he worked  _ hard _ to have a relationship with Porkchop. Put himself through Ronan’s bad moods and Porkchop’s snarls, for no apparent reason other than to form a friendship. 

 

“Look, you can adopt any other dog. Just not this one,” Ronan said firmly. 

 

The woman sighed, clearly irritated. “I just don’t understand  _ why _ I can’t adopt him, then.”

 

Adam wondered this, too. Until now, he had assumed Ronan found something wrong with the woman, or gotten a bad feeling about her. Something that only Ronan would pick up on, because for all his hatred of higher education, Ronan was painfully smart. But if Ronan truly found her unreliable, he wouldn’t let her have  _ any _ of the dogs. So why not Porkchop?

 

Finally, Ronan said, “He belongs to someone else. That’s all.”

 

“Then why did Noah say he was available?”

 

“It’s not official yet,” Ronan muttered. “But it will be.”

 

After that, the woman finally let the subject go. Adam waited until he heard their voices disappear down the hall, as Ronan tried to convince her to see the other animals. Once gone, Adam snuck to the kennel and looked down at Porkchop. He was clearly upset by the stranger - pacing back in forth in his kennel - but when he saw Adam he stopped, abruptly, and whined.

 

“Hey, boy,” Adam said. He stuck the tips of his fingers through a hole in the door, allowing Porkchop time to smell him. “You’re okay.”

 

It took a minute, but Porkchop eventually walked to Adam’s hand and smelled it. Then, without warning, he licked the pad of his fingers. 

 

“Woah,” Adam remarked. “You  _ must _ have been upset to do that.”

 

He took it as a sign that Porkchop was willing to let him into his kennel, so he opened the door and walked in, taking his seat against the wall. Porkchop’s individual kennel was fairly large - he clearly got spoiled by Ronan - and offered enough space for Adam to spread his legs out, and to even toss a tennis ball around. Porkchop had only recently begun to play with Adam, and as soon as he took out the tennis ball, Porkchop wagged his tail in excitement.

 

They’d been playing for about five minutes when Ronan came back, startled to see Adam.

 

“Couldn’t convince her to get another dog?” Adam asked.

 

Ronan looked away. “You heard?” 

 

“This building. It echoes a lot,” Adam said. He tossed the ball in the air, smiling when Porkchop caught it in his mouth. “Are you planning to adopt Porkchop?”

 

Ronan leaned against the wall. “No.”

 

“Then who does he belong to?” Adam couldn’t keep the jealous bite out of his mouth. Ronan raised one eyebrow at Adam, but said nothing. This irritated Adam further, and he bit out,  _ “What?” _

 

“Come on. You know who.”

 

“Obviously  _ not. _ ”

 

Ronan rolled his eyes then lulled his head to Porkchop, staring at him, then rolled his head back to Adam. At once, Adam understood the implication. (Well, okay, Ronan wasn’t exactly being subtle about it.) 

 

_ “What?” _ Adam pushed himself up from the ground and quickly exited the kennel. He didn’t want to upset Porkchop, and he could feel the anger building in his stomach already. “I’m not -- I mean, I can’t adopt him.”

 

Ronan stared at Adam, face void of emotion. “Why not?”

 

“I just can’t!” He could feel his anxiety growing, could actually  _ feel _ his heart beating in his chest. It was painful and tight and he wanted out. “I don’t have time for a dog. I don’t even have a  _ job _ , Ronan.”

 

“You graduated from  _ Yale, _ you’ll get a job soon.”

 

“Maybe!” Adam could feel himself growing irrational, but the fear was still there. He’d been applying all summer and had barely gotten a few phone interviews. And sure, he knew  _ logically _ that it probably had to do with a dry spell in the market. That he’d get a job sooner or later. It didn’t stop him from worrying about it. “And even if I  _ do _ get a job, then I’ll be busy!”

 

“You can have a life  _ and _ have a dog, Parrish.”

 

“Ronan.” Adam dug his hands through his hair until he reached the ends, pulling tight. “I wouldn’t even be a good owner. He’d hate me. Call that woman back, let her adopt him. She’d be a much better owner to him, treat him better--”

 

_ “Adam.” _ Ronan reached out and grabbed him by the shoulders, gentle but firm, and his thumb rubbed against Adam’s shirt, back and forth, the warmth pressing through his shirt and into his skin. “Look, you don’t have to fucking freak. I just figured--”

 

“Figured what?” Adam squirmed out of his touch, suddenly feeling hot  _ and _ anxious. It was not a good combination. 

 

“Well--” Ronan paused, licking his bottom lip. His hand ran over his head, as if he was smoothing down hair he didn’t have. “Why the fuck have you been spending so much time here, so much time with  _ him _ , if you weren’t interested in him?”

 

“I’m just volunteering here, for something to do,” Adam said. “It looks good on resumes. And I lived nearby.”

 

This seemed to be the wrong thing to say. Ronan shook his head, half disappointed, half pissed, and asked, “And Porkchop? You just spent all that energy with him, just because?”

 

Adam didn’t have an explanation for that. Why  _ did _ he spend so much time on Porkchop? Yes, he loved him  _ now _ , after spending hours and hours by his side. But why did he do it in the first place? It wasn’t pity, it truly wasn’t, but it was something else. Something he couldn’t quite place. An affection that grew for Porkchop the minute he saw him upset. The second he saw him fight back, wounded but still strong, he wanted to be part of Porkchop’s healing. Felt like he  _ needed _ to be a part of it.

 

Adam pressed his back against the wall, feeling exhausted. This was stupid. He was being stupid. He knew why he loved Porkchop, knew why he chose him, but forming it into words was too much. It was obvious why he would relate to this dog. He and Porkchop were not the same - they had the same fight, but not the same bite - and yet Adam wanted -- He wanted --

 

“Adam.”

 

His eyes slit back open. Ronan had gotten so much closer, all the sudden. Trapped against the wall like this, Adam found it harder to breath. Why did Ronan have to look like that? Why did he have to look at  _ Adam _ like that? 

 

Adam wanted many things.

 

“It doesn’t matter why I did it,” Adam said finally. “I can’t adopt Porkchop. I just can’t.”

 

Ronan didn’t react, not a first. He just stared at Adam, as if he could will him into changing his mind through his clear, blue eyes alone. (Which was not completely unreasonable, Adam thought, as Ronan’s gaze swept over him.) Then, apparently giving up, Ronan just braced his palm against the wall, near Adam’s ear, and pushed himself away.

 

“Fine.”

 

Then he walked down the hall.

 

* * *

 

 

After that, it became harder to spend his time at the shelter. It wasn’t that he was avoiding Ronan and Porkchop - he honestly  _ did _ get busier. It seemed, all at once, that jobs became interested in him. He had three interviews up in D.C., all on different days. When he  _ was _ at the Shelter, Noah always seemed to have a random task for him to do that kept him away from the dogs, away from Porkchop in particular.

 

In August, he finally got offered a job, scheduling him to start in September. It wasn’t as thrilling as he hoped - a construction company in D.C. that needed an engineer to work as a project manager - but it seemed stupid to turn down a perfectly fine job. Plus, getting a job in D.C. meant he could stay in the area. Close to Gansey and Henry. Close to Noah, who he’d grown attached to over the past month. Close to -- well. The shelter. 

 

God. It didn’t really matter. Ronan seemed to cut him out of his life. It wasn’t that he avoided Adam, really, because it was inevitable that they’d run into each other in the shelter. Instead, Ronan simply acted distant. Gone were the insults, the quips, even Ronan’s temper. Gone especially were the lingering looks that left goosebumps on Adam’s skin, that made him wonder what Ronan saw when he looked at him. 

 

Adam never thought he’d miss fighting with Ronan.

 

He still worked with Porkchop. Adam couldn’t help it - he’d worked so hard, and, fuck, he did love Porkchop. Maybe he couldn’t adopt him, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care.

 

Porkchop let Adam pet him now. Would sometimes rest his chin on Adam’s knee as he read. Gave him occasional kisses. Once, near the end of August, he felt particularly bold. Adam leaned down to Porkchop, hesitantly burying his face in Porkchop’s fur, letting his fingers run through his fur. Porkchop didn’t seem to mind. Adam sighed into his back, trying to figure out why he was so hesitant to adopt Porkchop.

 

It’s just, well, he was acutely aware how easily it would be to fuck over this dog, and equally aware of how this was exactly what Porkchop  _ could not have happen. _ This experience at the shelter had opened Adam’s eyes to owning a pet, to owning a dog in particular. He could see himself with one now. Could see him coming home to a friendly face at the door, could see taking him on walks around D.C.

 

But that was the thing. He could  _ see _ it, but not confidently. It was hazy and tentative, and Porkchop didn’t deserve that. He deserved someone confident. Someone who wasn’t taking a gamble.

 

Eventually, it was time for Adam to make the move up to D.C. On his last day, Noah baked him a cake that had a crudely drawn picture of Adam and Porkchop in blue frosting. Henry tagged along, using it as his last opportunity to flirt with Noah, apparently. (Adam wasn’t sure how he didn’t seal the deal, already. They texted constantly, apparently. When he asked Henry, he had simply responded, “Look, slow and steady wins the race, Adam. Plus, a single match doesn’t keep you warm. But a fire? The burn lasts long, man.” Whatever the fuck that meant.)

 

Ronan and Porkchop were both missing on his last day. Noah claimed it was a vet appointment. 

 

Adam tried to ignore the pain in his chest.

 

* * *

 

 

It was one month into his job and Adam still missed the shelter. Well, he missed Porkchop. And Ronan. 

 

He wasn't sure who he missed more, which felt a little absurd. 

 

His salary provided him with what felt like an absurdly excess amount of money. Originally, Adam had wanted to live in the city, but the more he looked at apartments the more outrageous the prices seemed. It’s not like he didn’t have the money, but he couldn’t justify paying thousands of dollars for a studio apartment. 

 

So when he found a one-bedroom outside the city, with access to a tiny yard, he took it. Sure, the commute was a bitch, but his company allowed him to get to work early enough that he skipped half the traffic anyway. Plus, he liked having his tiny place. Maybe he couldn’t have Porkchop, but someday, maybe a year from now, he’d get a dog of his own and it would love the yard.

 

Still, that didn’t stop him from imagining Porkchop in his yard.

 

In October, Noah called him out of the blue. They’d kept in touch - texted off and on - but it was still odd to see his name lighting up his screen. When he answered, Noah greeted him with a breathless laugh. 

 

“Okay, just hear me out first,” Noah began. “Because your instinct will be to say ‘no,’ but I’ll make it worth your while.”

 

_ “What is it?” _

 

What it was, as it turned out, was that Noah desperately wanted him to go on a blind double date. Apparently Henry had finally gotten the nerve to ask Noah out, but the boy was hesitant to go just the two of them.

 

“Henry won’t bite,” Adam said.

 

“I know.” Noah sighed. “It’s just… Well… I’ve never really gone out on a date before.”

 

“Ever?”

 

“Ever.”

 

It was his tone, soft and pleading and so very, very sad, that finally got Adam to agree. (That, and the fact that Henry blew up his phone with -  _ literally,  _ he counted - fifty seven individual messages of the word “PLEASE” and the kissy-face emoji.) 

 

“I’ll find you the best looking date!” Noah said quickly. “I know a lot of super cute girls!”

 

“Sure.” Adam pretended that he didn’t have a particular someone in mind when he added, “Or cute guys. Whichever.”

 

There was a pause. Adam could practically  _ hear _ Noah’s grin. “Adam Parrish, you sly boy. I didn’t know you swung that way.”

 

“Both ways, actually.”

 

Noah hummed across the phone. “Alright. I’ll find someone. You won’t regret it!”

 

But, one week later, as he made the hour-long drive back to Henrietta from his place, Adam felt like he  _ was _ going to regret it. He hadn’t been back to Henrietta, nor anywhere near the Shelter, since he left. It was hard enough just  _ remembering _ his summer, and now he had to drive through streets that automatically conjured up images of Porkchop and Ronan.

 

There weren’t many nice restaurants in Henrietta. Noah had told Adam to meet them at an Italian place. Apparently Cheng and him were going to have coffee first, just the two of them, to test the waters. (Which, even Adam had to admit, was kind of adorable.)

 

He got there early, but they let him sit down all the same. At first, Adam sat facing the door, looking for a single stranger who looked lost. After ten minutes, though, he found he couldn’t do it. Each person who came in just let him down, either too short or too pretty or too friendly, and he couldn’t take it. So he switched to the seat across.

 

A few minutes later he felt a soft clap to the back of his head, someone cuffing him lightly, and a familiar voice. “I’d recognize that haircut anywhere.”

 

Adam nearly choked on his sip of water. “What are you doing here?”

 

Ronan slipped into the chair across from him. He was dressed nice, or, well, nice enough for Ronan. (It wasn’t a button down shirt, nicely tucked into pressed slacks, like Adam wore. Like Henry, undoubtedly, would also wear.)  

 

Adam couldn’t help it. “Are you my date?”

 

“Probably.” Ronan reached across the table and just for a moment Adam thought he was going to touch him. Instead, he grabbed the salt shaker. Of course. “Sorry about this. Noah thinks he’s hilarious.”

 

Adam tried to ignore that. So Ronan thought this was a joke date. Cool. “It’s fine. I mean, I told him to bring whoever.”

 

“Still. ‘Whoever’ is very different than me, I’m sure.” Ronan took the pepper now and lined them up. He was staring seriously at the pair, outrageously serious, before he looked up at Adam. His face was shockingly hesitant. “So. How have you been?”

 

“Alright.” Adam took the moment to look at Ronan. He was clean shaven, for once, and it made him look just a bit younger. Made his lips stand out more, too, that asshole. “Nothing really happens. I go to work. Come home. Very boring.”

 

“Sounds lonely,” Ronan commented.

 

Adam bit his tongue. “What about you? How’s the shelter?”

 

Ronan grinned, “Come on. Just ask what you want to ask.”

 

“I did.”

 

_ “Parrish.” _

 

Adam tossed his napkin on the table with a sigh. Where were Noah and Henry? They were officially late now, and he desperately needed them to cut the tension. 

 

“Fine. How is Porkchop? Has he been adopted?”

 

“Nah. I’ve had a couple people interested, but he usually scares them away.”

 

Adam frowned. “He’s not scary.”

 

“I know.”

 

“People are idiots.”

 

Ronan looked at him. “I know.” 

 

Adam leaned back in his chair, annoyed. Fine. If they were going to play this game - be snippy little children over a nice, candlelit dinner - then fine. He could do that. Hell, Adam had two months of pent up annoyance at having Ronan disappear on him. He was happy to let that out.

 

“Why did you schedule a vet appointment for Porkchop on my last day?” 

 

“Why did you schedule your last day on a day he had a vet appointment?” was Ronan’s extremely mature response. When Adam scoffed, he added, “Look, you’re the one who said you didn’t want to adopt him.”

 

“I said I couldn’t adopt him, not that I didn’t want to,” Adam muttered.

 

Ronan’s eyebrow rose. “I don’t see the difference.”

 

“I just--” Adam had to lower his voice. He was getting too upset. They were in public, this couldn’t happen. He snuck a look at his phone, annoyed to see no messages. Where were they? “I  _ wanted _ to adopt him, okay? But you don’t always get what you want. Especially if it hurts someone else.”

 

“Who?  _ Porkchop?” _ Ronan snorted. “Dude. You worry too much.”

 

“He was  _ abused _ ,” Adam said quickly. “I couldn’t just gamble--”

 

“Gamble  _ what?  _ Did you plan to hit him? Kick him around? Withhold food for days because he accidentally shit on the floor?” Despite his words, Ronan’s tone remained calm.

 

“No, but--”

 

“But what?” Ronan sighed. “Look, Adam, I think you’re too hard on yourself. People who abuse dogs are complete trash. They don’t  _ accidentally _ screw up their lives. They make a deliberate choice to do it, because they’re fucking cruel and inhumane. Owning a dog is hard, I get it. But you’re not going to screw up a dog if you don’t play with him for one evening, or don’t have time to take him on a walk every single day.”

 

Adam didn’t know what to say. “Still.”

 

“I’m not - fuck - I’m not trying to pressure you into it or anything. I just think you’re being too hard on yourself. Porkchop isn’t a puppy. He doesn’t need to be coddled. He just needs someone to be nice to him, to feed him, to throw the ball around. Someone who will let him curl up to him next to him while they watch television. Or, knowing you, while they read a fucking book.”

 

“Books are great,” Adam said. He didn’t know why he said it. It was the only thing he could think of, especially with Ronan’s eyes boring into him. When he was using such a soft tone.

 

Adam’s phone vibrated against the table. He was glad for the distraction and took it happily. Unfortunately, the message was less than pleasing. It was from Noah.

 

_ I’m so sorry Adam! Would you mind if we don’t come after all? I’m actually having a really good time…  _

 

“Is that Noah?”

 

“Yeah.” Adam typed back his response.  _ Seriously?  _

 

“They not coming?” Ronan asked.

 

“Apparently not.”

 

_ I’m sorry, Adam! I’m sure you’ll have fun with Ronan, though. I’ll pay you back for your meal! _

 

“Of-fucking-course. I told you. Noah is such a smartass.” Ronan peered at the menu briefly before throwing it down. “Sorry you got dragged into this.”

 

“Well, I did agree to the date.”

 

“Yeah, but not with me.” 

 

Adam felt the words at the tip of his tongue.  _ But I wanted it to be with you.  _ He couldn’t say that, though. Not when Ronan thought the idea of going on a date with Adam was worthy of a joke.

 

“Noah said he’d buy us dinner,” Adam offered instead.

 

Ronan shrugged. “I’m not a big Italian person.”

 

“Wow. I wasn’t aware someone like that even existed.”

 

“I’m a rare bird.” Ronan looked at his watch. “Look. I have an idea. We could eat here, order something ridiculously expensive to drive Noah insane.  _ Or. _ If you wanted… We could grab something on the way to the shelter.”

 

Adam didn’t have to think twice. He very much wanted that. “To see Porkchop?”

 

“To see Porkchop.” 

 

Adam had to hide his smile by sucking in his lips. “Okay.”

 

* * *

 

An hour later, and a stomach full of McDonald's, Adam found himself in front of Porkchop’s kennel. He was nervous, ridiculously so, that Porkchop wouldn’t remember him. Or that he’d be angry at him. Or, God, that he would be scared of him and he’d have to start the whole process all over again.

 

Instead, Porkchop’s ears perked up when he saw Adam. Almost immediately he scrambled up from his bed and trotted to the door of the kennel, stuffing his snout through the holes to get to Adam’s fingers. 

 

Adam kind of wanted to cry.

 

It must have been evident on his face, because Ronan muttered, “Jesus, Parrish. It’s only been a couple months.”

 

Adam elbowed him. “Shut up.”

 

“I’m going to check on the dogs while I’m here,” Ronan said. “Go spend some time with him.”

 

Ronan left Adam alone with Porkchop for at least a half hour. Porkchop held no grudges against Adam, apparently. If anything, the distance made him more affectionate. Porkchop instantly curled up to Adam, stuffing his nose into Adam’s side, and whined until Adam scratched his ears.

 

“I missed you,” Adam whispered. Ronan was off somewhere, way too far to possibly overhear, but Adam still felt shy. “I’m sorry I didn’t adopt you. I was just scared.”

 

Porkchop looked up at Adam, blinking slowly.

 

“I have a pretty nice place,” Adam said. “It’s kind of small, but bigger than this room for sure. And I have a backyard. Grass and everything. I think I got it for you.”

 

At this, Porkchop flopped onto his side, exposing his belly to Adam. It brought a laugh out of his lips, and Adam made sure to grant his wish.

 

When Ronan returned, he joined them in the kennel. He sat across from Adam, back pressed to the wall, and spread his legs wide. They were both too large for the room, took up far too much space, but Adam liked the closeness. 

 

“He missed you,” Ronan said, voice quiet. He didn’t take his eyes off Adam.

 

Adam found it hard to look away. “I missed him, too.”

 

Porkchop demanded his attention, though, suddenly sitting up to rest his head once more on Adam’s knee. He wanted Adam’s hand to move to his ears, clearly, and whined until Adam proceeded to pet him.

 

Ronan reached into his pocket and pulled out a paper, tossing it in Adam’s direction. “Look, you don’t have -- I mean, if you still feel you can’t adopt him, that’s okay. But if you want to fill out an application form, there you go.”

 

Adam snorted. “I’d have to  _ apply?” _

 

“I have standards, Parrish.”

 

“Sure.” He scanned the paper briefly. “I need a reference, but I think I know just the guy. I used to volunteer at his shelter, so he knows I’m good with animals.” 

 

“What a standup guy,” Ronan said. “He sounds amazing.”

 

“He’s okay,” Adam joked. When Ronan scoffed, he added. “Bit of a temper.”

 

“Ouch. But I bet he’s really sorry about that. Bet he made sure to work on it, so that he wasn’t such an asshole all the time.” Ronan licked his bottom lip. “Right?”

 

Adam grinned. “Well, I know he has a room full of kittens to calm him down. Seems like cheating to me, but I guess that counts as progress.”

 

Ronan took a moment to speak. Finally, he cleared his throat and said, “What else is he like? You haven’t made him out to be very trustworthy. Doesn’t seem like a quality reference yet.”

 

“Wow. Didn’t realize you were so picky. No wonder we have so many animals here.” Adam pretended to think for a moment. “Well, we’ve established he’s a bit of a dick.”

 

“Right.” Ronan said. “But all the good ones are, right? Girls love bad boys and all those cliches.”

 

“Some boys like bad boys, too,” Adam said before he could stop himself. This was dangerous territory. He was openly flirting with Ronan now, which was stupid for many reasons. 

 

“Oh?” Ronan shifted, just slightly. Still, his reaction wasn’t bad. He didn’t look annoyed or disgusted.

 

“Yeah. Too bad he’s not a bad boy,” Adam lamented. “He thinks he is, though. It’s cute.”

 

Ronan pressed his thumb to his lips, disguising a smile. “So you think he’s cute.”

 

“Not what I said,” Adam said. When Ronan looked down, though, he added. “But he’s kind of cute, I guess. If you’re into that sort of thing.”

 

Ronan looked back at him. He inched a little closer, leaning his elbows on his knees. “And are you? Into that sort of thing?”

 

There was no hiding it now. They were flirting -  _ both _ of them, not just Adam - and Adam could feel his hands shaking. He buried one hand further into Porkchop’s fur, disguising it, and hid the other between his knees. 

 

When he said nothing, Ronan slid even closer. It was enough to give Adam courage.

 

“Against my better judgement,” Adam whispered. “I think I am.”

 

It was all it took. Ronan leaned forward, using one free hand to cup Adam’s cheek, and kissed him. He was warm and his lips were soft and he knew just how to tug at Adam’s bottom lip. Not enough to hurt, but enough that when he pulled away, Adam chased after him. They kissed and kissed, Ronan’s hands doing all the work - thumb tilting Adam’s chin so that he could kiss him deeper and longer - and Adam hardly remembered he was sitting next to Porkchop until the dog whined and pressed his cold nose to Adam’s arm.

 

“Oh, right,” Adam said, looking down at Porkchop’s big eyes. He was clearly trying to guilt him. 

 

Ronan hummed under his breath. He barely reacted to Porkchop’s tantrum, instead choosing to take advantage of Adam’s open neck. He placed a kiss on his collarbone, then under his jaw, then on his Adam’s apple. 

 

“Dogs interrupt everything, just so you know,” Ronan said against his throat, leaving one last lazy kiss before he pulled away. “You’ll have to get used to it.”

 

Adam was feeling very warm. He wanted to go back to kissing Ronan, but found it equally satisfying to be kissed  _ by _ him in other places. “I’ll manage.”

 

Ronan looked nervous. “So, you’ll do it? You’ll give him a try?”

 

“Well,” Adam said slowly, looking back at Ronan. “He seems worth it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on my [Tumblr](http://lydia-st-james.tumblr.com) sometime if you want to chat!
> 
> Thank you, as always, to those who read, left kudos, or comments. Happy holidays!


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